


The Capricious God

by jane_potter



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Altar Sex, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Crack, Crack, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Religious Themes & References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-24
Updated: 2009-10-24
Packaged: 2017-10-17 04:00:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/172675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jane_potter/pseuds/jane_potter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James T. Kirk is a deity, a God. And Spock is the priest assigned to tend to Kirk's every need. Jim is overjoyed. Spock is horrified.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Capricious God

When Spock lifted his head and opened his eyes, heaven was everything he had ever imagined it to be.

He knelt on a pale nothingness, surrounded by a vast and incomprehensible glow that suffused his every inch with directionless light. The dark, strict robes of his newly inducted priesthood stood out starkly from the purity of his surroundings. Somehow shocked to find himself actually in the Otherplane despite every conviction he had ever had of his faith's truth, Spock stared at his hands, bathed as they were in the effervescent illumination.

 _The incantation_. Spock took a deep breath, chastising himself for forgetting his single purpose in the Otherplane.

"O Holy God, who hath created the world and all in it, in whose perfect form all men of the world hath been made, and who in turn maketh all the works of the Great Creator's intent thereby to honor and cherish--"

"Hey! You're-- _HA_! They sent the pretty one! _YES_!"

Spock broke off, staring at the ebullient young man in in who had just bounded up to him and now stood grinning, triumphant, with his goldcloth robes happily askew. Then he hastily lowered his eyes.

"Great God JisuLLah'fffrefHgfmm," he murmured quickly. "I am honored to present this unworthy shell before you in service of your Word."

"Unworthy?" The god looked puzzled, then leered. "Oh, _baby_ , not at all. You can keep on presenting yourself as long as you like."

"I am S'chn T'gai Spock, of the Order--"

"--of _James Tiberius Kirk_ ," the god finished with relish. "That would be me."

"What?" Spock demanded sharply, before remembering himself. "I mean-- are you not in your unimaginable glory the Great God JisuLLah'fffrefHgfmm?"

The god's mouth worked in disbelief. He slapped a hand to his face. "Am I-- oh, of all the things to get lost in translation! My name! My _name_! No, Spock. No, no. Just... no. Call me Jim."

Spock was aghast.

"Yes, Great God... Jim," he croaked out.

"Just Jim," the god persisted. "All that pomp and ceremony gets old after a couple centuries, you know?" Jim stopped and looked around, tugging at the sleeves of his robe. It seemed that he was taking in his surroundings for the first time. "Oh, man. You're one of those stuffy types."

"I... beg your pardon?" Spock couldn't bring himself to utter the god's name without the appropriate titles.

Jim flapped a hand, snagging his wide goldcloth sleeve on one of the numerous ornate medallions around his neck and tearing a run into it. Spock winced. "You know. Holy light and all. You think this is a perfect heaven? Well it is, but only because you imagined it that way. Me, I prefer something a little more... exciting."

"I am sorry that my conception of your kingdom is displeasing to you, Great God Jim," Spock said, bowing immediately. "I will perform twenty acts of contrition and purge my body of this sin by refusing food for ten days. I hope I can some day achieve your forgiveness."

" _What_? You're-- Oh jeeze. Um." Jim looked immensely uncomfortable. "You're not seriously going to-- tell you what. S'chn T'gai Spock, I hereby forgive you for all wrongdoing in your life. Ever. And, uh, anything else. So no starving yourself, hear? Woah! Spock!?"

Jim looked down awkwardly at how Spock had pressed his face to Jim's feet in a rigidly perfect Submission, feverishly muttering a Prime Incantation. "O-okay," he said shakily. He patted Spock's hair cautiously, fingers sliding over glossy black strands. "What're you doing? I mean, I know I'm hot stuff, but this is kind of overkill, don't you think?"

"I am performing a Submission, Great God Jim," Spock said, confused. "I realise that it is a meager show of gratitude to make up for your infinite kindness, but it is the necessary response to a Holy Blessing, required by line 55.3.6 of the New Revised Book of JisuLLah'fffrefHgfmm--"

"Okay, you know what, that's enough!" Jim snapped, looking frustrated. "First of all, I never _once_ said anybody had to go about _starving_ themselves or kissing the ground or some dumb shit like that! Also--" He grabbed Spock's arm and pulled him to his feet, where Spock stood shellshocked as Jim frantically brushed off the front of his robes, fussing with his pin-straight collar and knocking it askew-- "--you can forget about this Submission thing! I-- I forbid it ever again! I don't want you _submitting_ to me, Spock! That's just... _wrong_. And while we're at it--"

He snapped his fingers loudly. Suddenly the Otherplane vanished and they were standing in the Temple of JisuLLah'fffrefHgfmm-- _Jim_ , Spock reminded himself shakily.

"We oughta be someplace a little more material," Jim concluded. "I _hate_ empty spaces."

"But you forbade the hoarding of material goods," Spock protested faintly. He was still stunned by the abrupt display of divine power that Jim threw around so casually.

"Did not," Jim retorted, looking outraged. He went over to the altar and snatched up an offering, biting into the fresh green apple with gusto. Spock had to hold back an outburst of horror at the disturbance of the altar, reminding himself that a god had the right to do with his temple as he pleased. "Why the fuck would I do that?"

"God!" Spock snapped without thinking, in the same tone that he used to chastise misbehaving disciples. Jim jumped guiltily. "Why do you speak this way? It is not logical! It does not concur with your teaching that no man should speak in vulgar tongues!"

"But sometimes that's the only way _to_ speak," said Jim. "You mean you _never_ swear? Christ, that sucks."

Spock's fists clenched. " _No man shall take the Great God's title in vain_."

"But I never said that!" Jim wailed. "God, you give a guy some simple instructions to write down in a book and he goes off on some crazy tangent of his own, then climbs a mountain just to find some shiny piece of rock to carve it into! I mean, fuck! Way to fly off the handle, man. It's not like there wasn't perfectly good paper around!"

Shaken and confused, Spock folded his hands behind his back, pacing stiffly up and down the nave. Jim seemed content to slouch sulkily against the altar, chewing loudly on his apple.

Eventually the heavy silence was broken by a mutter that made Spock's head snap up. "And here I just wanted a pretty face."

"I beg your pardon?"

Jim looked guiltily at him, shining golden hair falling disobediently over his eyes in a way that was never portrayed in the portraits and statues. "Well, you know. You were the prettiest one of the Speaker hopefuls. Fat old men, ew. I was kind of leaning on the Dedicate Superior to pick you."

Pinning Jim with the flinty stare that made always the choir stop giggling in the middle of Mass, Spock took a deep breath. In a voice that bit off the consonants like knives, he growled, "I was under the impression that I had been chosen of all the eminently educated and devoted candidates to act as your Speaker because my I had come farthest down the Path of Enlightment, setting aside attachment and emotion in order to align my soul with the clear and logical way to Peace. Am I to understand, then, that I was in fact chosen because of some capricious, childish god's desire for an attractive and empty-headed _glorified mouthpiece_?"

Shaking with indignant frustration, Spock fought to contain himself. God's land was nothing like he had been told; God's laws were, apparently, nothing at all; and God himself was-- was...

Was sitting on the altar, sprawled indolently back against the feet of his own statue and propped up on his elbows, with a frightening and intoxicating expression of raw desire on his face. His lips were parted and, Spock noted helplessly, very pink. The goldcloth of his robes draped like silk over long, splayed out limbs, clinging where holy garments should never have clung. Jim's eyes were hooded and low, blue fires banked to a smolder.

"You are so fucking _hot_ when you lecture," he whispered. "If I thought it was just inter-planar distortion that made it sexy every time you lectured a bunch of dedicates for skipping out on devotions or running down the cloisters? Yeah, no. Definitely smokin'."

Spock's mouth was very, very dry. "In the New Revised Book of JisuLLah'fffrefHgfmm," he said carefully, "line 89.7.0 forbids for confirmed priests the indulgence of physical pleasures for purely sensational purposes, specifically those of a carnal nature, including but not limited to--"

Spock barely dodged the apple core that whizzed past his head. Eyes wide, he stared at Jim, who now sat bolt upright on the altar, eyes blazing. The priest took a hesitant step back, shocked, because nothing in his life had ever prepared him for the sight now before him. Eyes blazing... no, _actually_.

Spock's tendency to take every word of the New Revised Book as literal instruction had long frustrated fellow dedicates who wished to delicately insist that perhaps some verses were meant to be taken as metaphor or allegory; but now it seemed that there was, after all, one person in the world who took things more literally than Spock-- Jim.

The god's eyes rippled with naked cobalt flames which blistered and blackened the skin of his browline and forehead in a way that made Spock shudder, though Jim seemed to feel no pain as his flesh began to peel away from his skull. The heavy snarl of his breath vented steam; his clawing fingers-- newly tipped with vicious black talons-- tore deep gouges into the edge of the marble altar.

" _No_ ," Jim growled. "No. You have got to be fucking kidding me. They did not. Ban. Sex. _In my bible_."

After a long pause, in which he seriously considered lying for the first time in his life, Spock said cautiously, "...Affirmative."

" _Fuck_!" Jim roared, leaping off the altar. "I'm gonna _kill_ them!"

He charged up the nave, and Spock reacted without thinking. Before he realised what he was doing, Spock found himself with an armful of hissing, flailing god, and his hand darted out to close upon Jim's shoulder.

Then, to his complete and utter horror, Spock found himself with an armful of limp, unconscious god.

"JisuLLah'fffrefHgfmm," he whispered. "Great God JisuLLah'fffrefHgfmm. My Lord-- Great Creator. JisuLLah'fffrefHgfmm. Jim." His voice began to fluctuate, a tremor of emotion creeping into his tenor as it started to rise by frightened increments. "Jim. Jim. Please, my Lord-- Jim. _Jim_."

Struggling to breathe through lungs crushed in a vice grip of unparalleled fear, Spock hurried forward and laid Jim across the altar, knocking the array of offerings to the floor with a careless sweep of an arm. Jim's head lolled back against the smooth stone, his mouth hanging slack. Spock pulled back the god's embroidered collar with trembling fingers, sick to his stomach with the thought that he might have broken Jim's neck. Beneath the stiff goldcloth, the bones of Jim's spine were intact, but he still lay unresponsive, nauseatingly empty of all his intensity, animation and blinding vitality.

Without meaning to, Spock began to mouth a Prime Incantation, voiceless with raw terror. He ran shaking hands over the god's hair, smooth gold locks sliding through his nerveless fingers. Blue eyes stared blankly up at him, half-open and dull and _empty_. What had he done-- what had he _done_?

"Jim," he said hoarsely, closing his eyes and bowing his head over the god's insensate form, folding his hands tightly around Jim's lax fingers. He had to swallow hard to force words past the lump in his throat. "Please, there is nothing else I can ask of you but... wake. Wake, I pray you. Please, Jim."

The god's limp hand tightened around Spock's, their digits linking together. Spock reeled, eyes flying open to Jim's brilliant smile.

"All you had to do was ask, Spock."

"I-- I am sorry, Jim," he gasped, shaking all over. "I do not understand how it is that I caused you such harm. It was never my intention, Great Creator."

"'Course not," Jim said, sounding bemused. He sat up slowly, wincing and rolling the shoulder Spock had jabbed. Horrified, Spock tried to pull away, needing desperately to perform a Submission, but Jim kept a firm grip on his hands, pulling Spock back to him. "Hey, hey. It's all right. Come here. Come here, Spock. It's all right, I promise. Come here."

As Jim blinked up at Spock, light caught in his eyelashes, filling them with gold refractions. His expression was confused and gentle.

"Didn't you know, Spock? You're my Speaker. You're the only person in the world that can harm me. Anybody else, I'd be my normal awesome invulnerable self. But you... no. I'm completely helpless to you. I wake-- and fall-- at your command." Very quietly, Jim finished, "That's why I picked you, Spock. That's why I want you and nobody else."

"I am sorry," Spock whispered again. Jim gripped his hands more tightly, sending a cascase of sensation through Spock.

"I forgive you," he said sincerely.

"It is not so simple," began Spock, his voice heavy, before Jim cut him off with a finger over his lips.

"Yes it is," he insisted, smiling. "I said so."

Spock shivered. His lips tingled where Jim's finger touched them, and the hand that Jim still held was full of pinpricks and vibrations, his pulse reverberating hotly against the cool grip of godly flesh. For a heavenly being, Jim had rough hands, covered in callus and tiny scars. The minuscule details in his body were astounding, and, standing so close that he breathed the faint eddy of Jim's breath, Spock drank them all in-- the two small moles on his throat, the lopsided pull of his crooked smile, the way his left eyebrow rode slightly higher than the right...

"Apparently I've missed a lot over the past few centuries," Jim said slowly, rubbing his thumb over the back of Spock's hand. "But you mortals kiss with your hands, don't you?"

"Affirmative," breathed Spock. His skull, his chest, his abdomen-- his entire body was filling with a heady warmth, a buzz like nothing he had ever felt before.

"Let me show you how we do it in heaven," Jim purred. Reaching up, he slid his fingers into the short hair at the nape of Spock's neck and pulled him down, tilting his head, bringing their mouths together in a slow, burning press.

Tense as he was, Spock quickly melted beneath Jim's touch. Chapped lips moved pursuasively against his own, a clever tongue teasing him now and again. The slow, sensual movement of Jim's cool mouth sent thrills racing through him, Tentatively, Spock tried to respond, opening his mouth and pressing his tongue to Jim's. To his horror, the sudden jerk of his movement knocked their teeth together painfully.

He drew back, humiliated-- and felt even more unsettled for the intensity of the emotion that writhed inside him. The god's presence affected him deeply, amplifying every emotion Spock had ever trained himself to repress.

But Jim, blue eyes alight with a soft light that made Spock's chest clench, merely laughed and pulled him closer.

"Relax, Spock," he drawled. "I make everything look easy. You just need some practice."

"It is more complicated than mortal kissing," Spock murmured, searching for a distraction from Jim's insistantly tugging hands, the clench of Jim's powerful thighs around his hips.

"Well, c'mon then," Jim rumbled, his voice low and smoky in a register that made Spock's eartips burn with a deep viridian blush. "I'll teach you."

"I do not--"

Gripping Spock's hands in his own, stroking and rubbing them in such a way that he surely could have had no idea exactly _what_ he was doing to Spock, Jim prompted, "What?"

"I do not know if I can," Spock burst out, his entire face aflame. It was fortunate, a detached part of him noted, that Jim's literal enactment of metaphorical language didn't extend to his Speaker. "I have never--" He couldn't force out the rest, and lowered his eyes to the floor, repeating shakily, "I have never."

The caressing of his fingers stopped, splitting Spock with a pang of simultaneous relief and loss. Then, gently, a chilly hand touched his chin, lifting it.

"Hey," said Jim kindly, "that's okay, Spock. I told you-- I'll teach you. If you want me to, I mean."

He ran a palm down Spock's chest, pressing down the shapeless black robes to feel beneath the hard lines and smooth planes of Spock's body. Bright eyes wide, the fringe of his wild gold mane splashing over his forehead, Jim gazed at Spock with an expression that was partly desirous, partly compassionate, and so worshipful that Spock couldn't breathe.

"What do you think I made your body for, anyway?" Jim continued, stroking Spock's hip slowly. "This beautiful body... This perfect skin, these gorgeous muscles, and all those nerves buzzing inside you, setting you on fire, making you burn for touch... To feel pleasure, Spock. To enjoy the hell out of life."

A grin spread over Jim's face, then. "And what did I give you a dick for, if not to have as much wild, crazy monkey sex as you possibly could? There are other, less fun ways to procreate, you know. Your species could have been spawning in water instead, never needing to touch each other at all."

"I... suppose that is logical," Spock managed, with difficulty, but it made Jim grin even wider. "Very logical. It was wise of you, Great Creator."

"Yeah, well." Jim flipped a hand modestly. "Since I obviously forgot to leave you the instruction manual, whaddya say to a beginner's course on Spock's Body 101 right from the inventor?"

"Affirmative," said Spock simply, though mystified by most of the god's words.

Still vastly confused, he was simply content to follow Jim's instructions and lay down on the wide altar, if somewhat gingerly for the thrill of impropriety that ran through him. Jim moved confidently to kneel above Spock, straddling his hips and waggling his eyebrows. When Spock didn't respond, not understanding the gesture, Jim pouted.

He cupped Spock's face in his hands and kissed him softly, the gesture almost chaste. This time Spock responded more cautiously, parting his lips just enough to taste Jim's breath and lick his lower lip swiftly. Jim chuckled deep in his chest, returning the gesture with a series of affectionate little kisses-- Spock's nose, his cheeks, the corners of mouth and the dip of his chin. It was followed up with a quick nibble of his lower lip, which made Spock draw a sharp, surprised breath.

"Good?"

"Affirmative."

"Ready for more?"

"Affirmative. _Please_."

Smiling, Jim snapped his fingers.

"Oh, come on," he said cheerfully, to Spock's wide-eyed stare of shock. "What's the use of being divine if you can't occasionally vanish all of somebody's clothes?"

"I... _oh_ , yes," Spock groaned, his protest completely derailed by the grip of Jim's muscular calves on his hips, the maddening press of weight on his pubic bone. Then he moaned again, high and faltering, when Jim leaned down to suck on his clavicle, the whole length of his naked body grinding down against Spock, bracingly cool against skin that felt feverish, full of blood and lust.

"Hmm," Jim murmured, painting one of Spock's nipples with saliva and blowing on it experimentally, to a soft chorus of shocked groans. "You guys have changed a bit since I first designed you, but I think everything's pretty much where I left it."

"Jim," whispered Spock hoarsely. "Jim. God, please. Yes."

"I do love it when you pray," Jim said sweetly, kissing Spock on the lips once more. "Now, about this gorgeous dick of yours..."

Spock tensed slightly, unable to control the reaction. The comparison and mockery of his genitals had been only one of many torments that marked his childhood. As a young apprentice, he had never gone swimming with his peers in the river, and still maintained the habit of bathing alone, either before or after the other dedicates. "I am not certain it is as you say, Jim."

"Bullshit," Jim dismissed. "I can't say I remember _every_ cock I ever created, but I'm sure yours is awesome, Spock."

Smirking, he sat up on top of Spock and began to writhe with deliberate confidence, circling his hips slowly, grinding his ass down against Spock's pelvis. Utterly transfixed by the sight and sensation of Jim's undulating body, Spock felt his loins begin to stir. Lubricating fluid welled up and dripped from his slit, a trickle of warmth down the crevice of his buttocks.

Jim beamed and rocked back and forth more enthusiastically, taking Spock's hands in his and placing them on his hips. Helpless in the torrent of pleasure, Spock could only rest his hands on Jim's rolling hips and follow the hypnotic motion.

As it hardened, Spock's length began to push out of his body, and the textured patch on the shaft of it scraped past a gland inside his channel. Another gush of fluid dripped from Spock, far more than before-- more than any other time in his life. Gasping, Spock tilted his head back against the altar and swallowed a groan, awash in the heady, intoxicating sensation of laying in a puddle of his own fluids, panting and wanting and _needing_. He had never known it was possible to produce so much lubricant, or to be so desperately aroused. Then the very tip of his penis emerged from his protective slit, wet and glistening, and he shuddered at the coolness of the air.

"So pretty," Jim cooed, brushing his fingers up and down the parallel rows of vestigial teats on Spock's belly, teasing a green flush into Spock's six nipples. "That's it, Spock. That's it. Isn't it good?"

"Yes," he gasped. "Jim. God. Please."

"Four best words in the mortal language," Jim mused. "Oh, wait, no. You forgot one. Fuck. _Fuck_. Five best words-- yes, Jim, God, please, _fuck_."

"Jim-- more. I-- I-- _yes_."

"No, not 'more'. Fuck, Spock. Fuck. C'mon, c'mon..."

"No man shall-- shall speak in vulgar t-tongues," Spock insisted, the words coming out brokenly. " _Jim_. I require-- I need--"

"All right," Jim conceded at last, smiling fondly down at Spock. "We have time to work on that."

Before Spock could formulate a protest, Jim slithered down Spock's body to kneel before the altar between his spread legs, hands on trembling thighs. Breath warm from the god's lungs puffed against his arousal. His face burning hot green, Spock felt his stomach clench with inferiority when he saw how his cock stood before Jim's mouth, barely three inches long.

"Perfect," Jim said softly, intently, and the next breath that washed over Spock was literally smoking with the smoulder in Jim's voice. Spock cried out hoarsely, a sob in his breathing, lifting his hips needily.

" _Fuck_ , Spock," the god growled, nuzzling and lapping at his erection, rubbing a thumb up and down the slippery crack of Spock's ass. " _Perfect_. My perfect Speaker."

"Please," was the only thing Spock could rasp, clinging to control by a thread. "Please-- please..."

Eyes narrowed with the force of his grin, Jim opened his mouth and went down on him all the way, cold wetness swallowing Spock's straining arousal. The tip of Spock's penis just nudged the back of Jim's throat as his lips stretched around the base, shiny and obscene and pink against the bright emerald of Spock's flushed skin.

Tensing and twisting his hips once, hard, Spock came in Jim's mouth with a broken cry that echoed through the temple, reverberating off the towering marble columns.

His lips pressed into a thin line of shock at his own loss of control, Spock pushed himself up onto his elbows to look down at Jim. His entire body trembled with slow, thunderous pulses of ebbing pleasure that hit him like the aftershocks of an earthquake. From between Spock's legs, Jim lifted his head, looking distinctly feline as he licked his lips clean of the clear fluid smeared on them.

"Yeah, baby," he leered. "And I bet you're ready for more, aren't you. Hell, Spock, did you really think I made you people able to have multiple orgasms just so you could go off and not have sex at _all_?"

"That is illogical," Spock agreed shakily. "You are correct in your boundless knowledge, Jim."

"You really know how to tell a guy what he likes to hear," Jim purred happily, crawling back on top of Spock. "Here, taste."

Spock opened his mouth eagerly for Jim's kiss, yet he was still somehow shocked by the powerful flavour of his own semen, sweet and cloying. He kissed back hungrily, deeply aroused by the idea of his come in Jim's mouth, but still grimaced at the lingering taste when Jim pulled away.

"What, you don't like it?" the god laughed, licking his lips in satisfaction. "Fructose-based semen-- one of my better ideas, I thought, seeing as without meat you guys don't ingest enough protein to waste on spunk."

"It is not to my taste," Spock said simply, and Jim chuckled again.

"More for me, then," he announced happily. He kissed Spock once more on the mouth before sliding back to the floor.

Still light-headed, Spock struggled to sit up. "Jim, perhaps I should--"

Jim pinched Spock's ass cheerfully, shaking his head. "Ah ah ah no. You just lay back and hang on for the ride, Spock. I'm gonna give this beautiful body the workout of a lifetime."

Splayed out over the altar in a mess of his own fluids, every inch of naked skin blushing a brilliant green, Spock found that he could do nothing but whine and gasp and squeak as Jim sucked his cock again, now more thoroughly than before. Slurping and mumbling his appreciation in a constant litany of praise that made Spock's toes curl, Jim tongued the head of his penis, lapped at the abrasive contact tissue and rubbed his nosetip up and down between the double ridges. Every now and again, the god simply buried his face in the slippery cleft between Spock's legs, soaked with a constant flood of his own lubricant, and laved broad strokes across his sensitive perineum.

His face glistening and wet from cheeks to chin, Jim lifted his head to stare straight at Spock, vivid blue eyes riveting as Jim took Spock's penis in hand and slapped it obscenely against his cheek. Precome spattered Jim's face. Spock writhed in the grip of a powerful surge of arousal and gave a shocking mewl, the sound lewd and wanton.

" _Jim_ ," he sobbed, the single word as much of a prayer as any he had ever uttered.

"Fuck," Jim prompted in a breath. Spock's dick made wet sounds as it smacked his slick face, leaving translucent strings of fluid dripping down his jaw.

"F-- f-f--"

 "Fuck, Spock."

His mouth twisted with ecstasy that was almost painful, Spock threw back his head and cried obediently, " _Fuck_!"

"Good boy," Jim mumbled, sliding back down on Spock with a loud slurp.

There was no more teasing, no fluttering or delicate kissing. Jim simply sealed his lips around the base of Spock's length and sucked hard, cheeks hollowing. His head bobbed quickly, tongue lashing over the double-ridged underside on every sweep upwards. At each determined swallow, the head of Spock's penis struck the back of Jim's throat, drawing a grunt from one and a hitching whine from the other.

Now panting shamelessly, Spock reached out one hand for Jim's head, his fingers drawn almost magnetically to the temptation of a fistful of brassy hair. He checked the urge at the last moment, unable to bring himself to force a god to fellate him faster, and instead dropped his hand to his stomach.

Half instinctually and half trying to recreate what Jim had done earlier, Spock fumbled at his nipples, which were set in two rows of three on his abdomen, one to either side of his navel. They peaked under his inexpert touch, drawing the skin of his belly taut. He gasped and trailed his palms over them again, unbearably aroused by the foreign sensation of the tiny nubs rolling hard against his fingers. Never had Spock thought of his nipples as anything but the remnants of an evolutionary history in which both males and females nursed their young, but now he knew he would not be able to forget how they sang beneath his touch, fingertips and teats humming with mutual pleasure.

Humming around Spock's arousal, Jim stroked the base of it, fingering the spread lips of his slit. Spock moaned softly and canted his hips. Jim trailed his digits downwards, wetting them in the liquid all over Spock's inner thighs. Then, never breaking the rhythm of his mouth, Jim slid his fingers into the slippery crevice of Spock's ass and began to tease his hole. As the Speaker lay dripping wet and lax with pleasure, moaning his bliss to the temple's vaulted ceiling, Jim breached him easily. Aside from a squirm of his hips, the only indication of Spock's reaction was a higher, more desperate pitch of whimpering.

Not long after Jim began fucking him in earnest with two fingers, both rubbing over his prostate on every stroke, Spock gave a deep sob and orgasmed again, his heels kicking involuntarily as he jerked and shuddered his completion into Jim's mouth. Swallowing with a happy, sloppy grin, Jim nuzzled Spock's belly affectionately. His face smeared fluids all over Spock's nipples and the hand he was rubbing them with.

Spock's breath came hard and unsteady, chest heaving up and down as his lungs laboured to draw long, dragging rasps of air. Every attempt to speak ended in a throaty whimper. As if in a dream, Spock listened dazedly to the satiated noises he was making, low mewls and sighs between shuddering breaths.

"Mmm," Jim sighed. "Oh, baby. Look at you, Spock. This is the kind of offering I want on my altar _all_ the time."

"As you wish," Spock murmured without thinking.

The god laughed. "You're my favourite Speaker ever," he said delightedly.

Sinuous and graceful, he climbed back onto the altar and crawled over Spock, bracing himself on his elbows to smile down at Spock, eyes sparkling. "Now a test, Spock," he announced playfully. "My favourite words in the world-- what are they?"

Too pleasure-lazy to do more than lift an eyebrow, Spock kissed his fingertips and then touched Jim's lips muzzily. "Yes, Jim, God, please, fuck," he recited drowsily.

Jim smirked and nipped Spock's digits. "As you wish."

One of Jim's knees pushed between Spock's thighs, nudging them farther apart. Tilting his head back to expose the long line of his throat in a motion that felt distantly instinctual, Spock spread his legs as wide as he could. Jim growled against his neck and sucked fierce marks onto Spock's throat as he maneuvered their hips into alignment, lifting Spock's knees.

Glancing down between their bodies, Spock caught a glimpse of Jim's erection, jabbing long and hard from the apex of the god's legs, occasionally rubbing against Spock's own continued hardness. Spock's eyes widened at the foreign redness of it, so unlike his own, a long hard spur joined directly to Jim's pelvis with smooth, seamless skin. He swallowed the protest that wanted to surface, both nervous and embarrassed anew at the obvious difference in their sizes.

Palm slick with Spock's fluids, Jim gave himself a few quick strokes. A gentle thrust of his fingers into Spock's slippery channel assured Jim of his preparedness. At the touch, the barest tantalising promise of what was about to occur, Spock could only bring his hands to Jim's back and grip him tightly, trembling in anticipation.

"Jim," he simply breathed, a heartbeat before Jim's length penetrated him.

Mouth hanging open in a silent O of shock, Spock arched into Jim, his body bending to the basest submission that existed. He was hardly breathing, wide eyes staring fixed into the middle distance as he struggled to think beyond the exquisite intensity of every millimetre that filled him, stretching, claiming, sinking slowly into Spock with a tenderness that drove the breath from his lungs and left him gasping, transfixed by Jim's wide-eyed adoration.

"Oh," Spock said faintly.

"Oh," Jim echoed, a breath of contentment.

"This is sex," he whispered.

"Yeah," breathed Jim, his lips grazing Spock's cheek.

" _Oh_. I..."

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "Oh, man. Oh."

Words slid unbidden from him. "Yes. Please. _God_."

"Fuck?"

Slowly, tensing and relaxing every muscle of his body in an experimental roll,  Spock stretched. Above him, Jim groaned in heartfelt desire. Spock felt luxuriant, gripped with a powerful lucidity of his every breath and blink, every pulse of blood through his body. He felt, for the first time in his life, _real_.

Wrapped in the arms of his god, Spock smiled. "Affirmative."


End file.
